


[C] Midnight

by OneofWebs



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Bathing/Washing, Bondage, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Breakfast in Bed, Daddy Kink, Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Traveling Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:11:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22716592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: They were on a mission, believe it or not. They were supposed to be heading for the city, but there was always one thing that Geralt had more of a mind for than the straight and narrow: that was Jaskier. If Jaskier wanted them to stop for the night, then they would stop, and Geralt would give him a night that made the wait worth it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 418





	[C] Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eternally_Damned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternally_Damned/gifts).



> This is my first Witcher Fic ever. I was never into the games enough to play them for myself, but I was into the whole thing as a concept. The Netflix series is certianly on my watch list but i'm busy watching food shows right now so we'll get there, we'll get there.
> 
> Kudos and comments much appreciated! Hope you enjoy.

For the past hour, their travel was filled with Jaskier doing that thing with his eyes that he did when he _wanted_ something. Sometimes, he enjoyed the chase a bit too much. Looking around with those eyes and that smile was far more fun than actually coming right out and saying what he wanted. It was a game they would play. More so, it was a game that Geralt would tolerate until he could tolerate it no more. There was much about Jaskier’s little word games and finely crafted arts that Geralt found endearing, but it was hard to find anything endearing after an entire day of travel.

Geralt was tired, and Jaskier couldn’t blame him for that. He could at least take sympathy, since Jaskier never seemed to lose an ounce of his energy, and dial things back a bit. These games were wonderful, really, and if Geralt wasn’t ready to find himself a place to sleep, he’d even play them. But that was the name of the game, then, wasn’t it. They were on their way to the city and had been set to just travel right on through the night and make camp where they needed.

When they reached a branching path, Geralt came to a stop, and that stopped everything. The horse stopped with him, and Jaskier stopped a moment later so he could whirl around on his heel to turn back and look at Geralt. There had been five minutes of reprieve from the glancing and the looking, and it had been in those five minutes that Geralt was able to piece everything together. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t tell Jaskier wanted something, it was a matter of finding out what he wanted.

“We’ve stopped,” Jaskier said, helpfully. “What for?”

“If we’re to the right,” Geralt said, with a helpful point in that direction, “we’ll make time for the city. If we’re to the left,” another point, “we’ll find a pleasant little town to stop at for the night.”

“Very astute. I see you’ve been looking at the map. Much better than wandering blindly, isn’t it?”

Geralt ignored that comment. “You want to head to the left, don’t you?”

Jaskier’s little wriggling impatience stopped right there, and he was still. “What makes you say that?”

“Don’t play coy.”

Jaskier went a bit stiff in response.

“It’s easier, isn’t it?” Geralt asked, taking a step closer. He rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat to make his intentions clear. Jaskier wouldn’t look away from him now, and his jovial little attitude was swept right off the path. “When you just tell me what you want?”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaskier insisted, because he had to. He wouldn’t give up his place in the game until he was sure that he had lost.

“Jaskier,” Geralt all but growled at him, letting the rough pads of his leather clad hands run down the length of Jaskier’s jaw. “Would you like to go the right or to the left? I will only ask once.”

Jaskier sucked in a deep breath like he was trying to weigh his options. They did have _plans_ , after all. They were going to the city to look for the great selection of shops, as Geralt needed some of his armor repaired and the supplies were dwindling. While they were there, they’d agreed to take advantage of some of the finer things. It was their chance to indulge, to have fine wine, fine food, and finer sex. It’d been such a long time since they’d had a moment to themselves; Jaskier had been looking forward to this. Perhaps a bit too much.

If he chose right, it would take them three days to get to the city. If he chose left, they would have slightly less fine accommodations, and Jaskier was a fan of his fine accommodations. The tradeoff was arrival time. They could get to the fine little town _tonight_. That was what Jaskier wanted, of course, but he still liked to weigh out the potentials. It was a finer bed in turn for having Geralt on top of him, _inside of him_ , tonight. Tonight. Tonight, was starting to sound better each passing time that Jaskier said it to himself.

He wanted to take a bit of a chance, too. They hadn’t just planned to roll around in bed like animals, after all. Jaskier had tastes. He had _needs_ —all of which Geralt had been more than happy to satisfy. Would they still do those things in a lesser inn? Was it a chance he was throwing away? There was a much more fun way to find his answer than asking, though he was sure Geralt would have just preferred he ask. Jaskier didn’t see the reason to be so upfront when Geralt was clearly so good at finding out the truth, on his own.

“I’d like to go left,” Jaskier said, taking a daring step closer. Geralt’s hand was still on his face, and he curled his own hold around Geralt’s wrist. “If that’s okay with you, daddy,” Jaskier whispered the last part. They were alone, but they were still _outside_. He didn’t need to be shouting his particular interests to the world or any unfortunate passersby.

Geralt sucked in a deep breath, but the look on his face didn’t change. “Is that the game you’re playing?”

Jaskier gave his best innocent look, and it made Geralt smile.

“To the left, then,” Geralt gestured. “On with it.”

He patted Jaskier’s cheek and leaned in long enough to press a quick kiss to his forehead. When Jaskier turned around to begin walking off to the left side of the path, Geralt delivered a firm swat to his rear. Jaskier stumbled forward, but he didn’t dare say anything beyond the involuntary _yelp_ he’d let out. It made Geralt chuckle that sort of deep laugh that let Jaskier know he was in trouble. Geralt was rarely _pleasantly_ amused. It would take them the rest of the light to get to the town, but Jaskier had no illusions about that being enough time for Geralt to forget how difficult this has been.

Could he have just said something? Yes. Was this far more fun? Also, yes. If Geralt didn’t enjoy it, then he wouldn’t give into it. That was the story Jaskier would keep telling himself.

Unfortunately, this newfound promise of a wild night made the day of travel more miserable than it’d already been. Jaskier had something to look forward to, now. It wasn’t just an unpleasant itch or a dream of a possibility of the potential in three days’ time. It was a very strict imaginative play of what would be taking place, come evening. There was no real end to what Geralt might have in store for him. Jaskier was trying, hard as he might, not to spend their travel wrapped up in that thought.

If he didn’t think better for things like their safety and hygiene, Jaskier might just beg Geralt to take him now. The wait was unbearable. He knew the wait was _worth it_ , but that didn’t detract from the fact that his cock was already hardening in his trousers. He just hoped Geralt wouldn’t notice, because he’d never hear the end of that. If there was one thing Geralt was, it was observant. Jaskier wasn’t going to be able to hide his growing arousal for long, not with how uncomfortable it was. And when he was uncomfortable, it showed.

Jaskier busied himself with thinking of things that were not Geralt’s firm hand and firmer cock. Surely, there was _something_ out there he could think of. A new song to write, a new melody to play. Perhaps, he could even just lose himself in exploring their scenery. The route they’d chosen did end up being quite beautiful, and there was still enough light to see it. That was just a painful reminder that they wouldn’t be arriving to town for _hours_ , though. That set Jaskier right back to where he’d started: the things Geralt would do to him.

He wondered just how open either of them would be about doing something in the open. Jaskier certainly thought he might be ready for anything, so long as he knew Geralt would protect him. There wasn’t anything wrong with a quickie behind a tree, though. Maybe a blowjob, Geralt’s hand in his hair. Geralt whispering all manner of things to him about how _nasty_ he was for not being able to wait. Jaskier needed to shut those thoughts down immediately.

The alternative, nonsexual thoughts had helped a bit. Just the smallest bit. Jaskier at least thought he wasn’t walking like the front of his trousers were too tight, anymore. What the truth of it was had escaped him. Jaskier had simply gotten used to the little twinge in his step, the very twinge that Geralt had been watching with an amused little grin. Jaskier may have thought he’d successfully avoided that gaze, but it hadn’t happened quite as well as he’d hoped. Geralt was just biding his time.

When they came to cross over a creek, Geralt took his chance to close the distance between them. Jaskier had been walking a few paces in front, which had been the first clue that something was wrong. After the little creek, they were walking side by side. Jaskier tried not to look happy, and he tried not to look upset. He rather tried not to look at all, with his arms folded up around his chest. It was obvious, how uncomfortable he was, especially with Geralt looming beside him.

When Geralt put his arm around Jaskier’s waist, he froze up and nearly stumbled over his own feet. They kept walking. Jaskier was hyper aware of Geralt’s arm on his back, the press of his hands far lower than it probably needed to be. For being out in the middle of the road, this was essentially obscene. Geralt had his fingers digging down into the small of Jaskier’s back, and Jaskier was trying not to gasp. Geralt’s hand went down farther, cupping over the swell of Jaskier’s ass and squeezing. Jaskier _did_ gasp, then.

“What are you doing?” Jaskier hissed.

“Oh, we’re being direct, now?” Geralt asked. He hadn’t even bothered to glance down at Jaskier, almost like he wasn’t doing anything, at all.

“That’s—alright,” Jaskier sighed. “We’re in public—” He’d just been _thinking_ about this. It was uncanny.

“Are we? I think we’re alone.” He made his point by with a squeeze. “I’ve been watching.”

Jaskier sucked in a deep breath.

“I just wanted to ensure you didn’t think you were getting away with anything.” Geralt pulled his hand away after a quick swat. “Something for you to think about.”

Jaskier chanced a glance at Geralt, who was suddenly leaning down closer than he had been. He kept a hard grip on Jaskier’s shoulder, too, just in case he got skittish.

“When we arrive at our destination, I have a very strict list of things for you to do. Will you do them?”

Jaskier gave a tentative, hesitant nod. Geralt wouldn’t _tell_ him that list until they got to town, but that was all a part of the game. With one little previous slip of a word where Jaskier thought he’d get what he wanted; he’d started the game. He had to agree. He _wanted_ to agree. That was the only way the game continued.

They made better time than Jaskier had originally assumed. It was still light when they arrived in town, and the shops were still open. That would be Jaskier’s first task, as the first thing Geralt did when they arrived was take him off to the side and give him his list of _tasks_. His first task would be to go to the market, while it was still open, and restock some of their dwindling supplies. One of those dwindling supplies was oil, and Jaskier knew what that meant.

His second task would be to come to the inn, where Geralt would already have them a private room. He’d spare no expense for a fine evening, and he’d said so with the drag of his leather gloves over Jaskier’s jaw, leaning into him, perhaps, a bit closer than necessary. But Jaskier could feel the heat of Geralt’s breath against his face, and it made him shudder. He had no idea what Geralt had in store for him, but Geralt seemed to have more plans than just this list.

After he’d found the inn and the room they’d be staying in, he was to _bathe_. Geralt would have already done so, as _intimately_ as he could. He would have described it in more detail, but they were standing in the middle of a town road. Off to the side, as it were, but there were still people. Jaskier clearly got the idea, as his face had gone a bright red at the order. That he was to clean himself for their night together. He could do that. He could definitely do that.

“And after?” Jaskier chanced to ask.

“Dress lightly on your return,” Geralt said. “You won’t need your clothes, once I have you. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Jaskier replied, his voice shaking.

“Yes?” Geralt challenged, his grip around Jaskier’s jaw suddenly rougher than it had been.

“Yes, daddy,” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt patted Jaskier’s cheek and smiled at him. “That’s a good boy. Off with you, then. Take your time picking out something nice.”

They parted ways. Jaskier headed off for the market, and Geralt made his way towards the inn. They each had their separate things to take care of, but Jaskier couldn’t help but wanting to know what Geralt was going to do. That was entirely apart of the game; Jaskier just had to _trust_ that things would work out, and, if he just did what he was told, he’d be well taken care of by nightfall. He just had to be patient. He just had to do what Geralt told him to do.

First, the market. They needed to stock up on food. Geralt would worry about his armor repair when they actually made it to the city. So, food and oil. That wasn’t such a bad shopping list. Jaskier thought he had a pretty fine taste in food, even if the traveling sort of food could never be as good as a freshly cooked meal. They never carried around a lot of meat—Geralt hunted when they camped, so fine. Just the things to go with it. Maybe some materials for the traps.

Jaskier never spent long contemplating the oil. He knew exactly what he liked from the color to the shape of the bottle. He grabbed it, paid for it, and didn’t think about what any of it meant. He’d already taken what was surely an hour to gather all of these things, as the sun was beginning to drip. If he took any longer, Geralt would just be angry with him. And he still had to take a bath. He would just have to be quick about it. Quick but thorough. Not two things that usually went together.

As long as the end result was acceptable, he’d be fine.

He went to the inn, as he’d been told, and dropped off what he’d bought in the room that Geralt had gotten for them. Geralt was absent, but in looking at the finery of the room, that almost didn’t matter. The bed was large enough for the both of them, and there was a fine sitting area over to the side. There was even a fireplace, which was regretfully untouched. This wasn’t any sort of tavern room they’d stayed in before, and Jaskier was quite pleased for that.

There would be time to admire the room later. He had to bathe. While he left the supplies and the materials in the room, he took the oil with him. Geralt hadn’t expressly _told_ him to go that far, but Jaskier thought it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it would hurry things along. It’d been so long since Geralt had held him down and really, _really_ fucked him. It’d taken him some time to finally be able to admit to himself, but Jaskier _needed_ this.

He couldn’t help but _think_ about it, when he sunk down into the hot water. In less than an hour, he’d have Geralt’s hands on him. He tried to imagine it, while he washed himself, running his hands down his own chest and shivering as he brushed over his nipples, down to his stomach and the v of his hips. He tried not to touch his cock, but the stir of arousal was there, burning under his skin. It was a tradeoff between immediate satisfaction and the worry that Geralt would find out and _punish_ him.

Given how he acted before they’d arrived here, Jaskier was sure he already had something coming. He’d been coy and embarrassed about what he wanted, and Geralt was never a fan for having to guess. Jaskier surely deserved a punishment for his behavior, so what was a little extra on the side? He’d try not to invoke worse and just go straight for the work bit, ignoring the strain of his cock.

Jaskier ran his fingers down the length of his perineum, pressing down with just enough pressure to give him that _full_ feeling. He ventured down farther until he could rub his fingers over his hole, and he gasped. He couldn’t lose himself too quickly—there was actual _work_ to be done. He had to make sure he was actually _ready_ for what Geralt was going to give him.

When the work was finished, Jaskier took a moment to himself. It was why he’d brought the oil. He was clean, inside and out, and that just made the whole process so much better. Just a little dribble of oil over his fingers and then he could run them down between his cheeks, feeling over himself. He was practically trembling, and he could already hear Geralt scolding him for it. Too much of a slut, too _naughty,_ to keep his hands to himself. He hoped Geralt said something when he went to the room.

Jaskier lost himself in it, working his first finger into himself. He wished he knew how to keep it detached, _clinical_ even, but he couldn’t. He could close his eyes and imagine it was Geralt behind him, holding him open and working a finger into him. Jaskier shivered, moaned, and worked his finger in as far as he could manage. The angel was bad, but the feeling was still there: slick against his inner walls. Hot, _desperate_. Geralt had to appreciate that, didn’t he?

There was a distinct uncomfortable feeling of _slick_ when Jaskier got dressed, but he knew he wouldn’t have to suffer that for long. It was also a surefire guarantee that Geralt would _see_ what he did and react. If that meant more punishment or praise, Jaskier couldn’t wait to find out. He couldn’t wait to endure it, whatever it would be. His entire body was alighted with that feeling, already, of anticipation. Pleasure. All he had to do was make it back to the inn room without anyone noticing his cock through his trousers.

It was an awkward shuffle, but Jaskier made it back to the inn room and closed the door behind him, a deep sigh in his chest. He looked into the room, and that sigh died. Geralt was standing there in some miraculous state of undress. His armor was all off, which left him in nothing but that white shirt, with all the laces undone. Down to his chest. Jaskier gulped and let his eyes roam down. Geralt’s tight trousers tucked into his boots. If his boots were still in, he must have had a _night_ planned.

“You’re slow,” Geralt said. “Do you enjoy keeping me waiting?”

“No, No, I—”

“I think you do. I think you enjoy lying to me and making me wait. That’s what the whole display was earlier, wasn’t it? Because you’re too good to _ask_ for things you want, like a proper boy.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Yes, you are. Would you come over here?” Geralt asked firmly.

That was Jaskier’s chance to say _no_ , and he knew it. Even if Geralt could play forceful and domineering, Jaskier would never mistake that for hatred or apathy. Geralt _cared_ if Jaskier wanted to continue, so he asked in the best way possible: still in the game. Jaskier could walk away, if he so chose.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier mumbled, stepping forward. He didn’t miss the sliver of a smile on Geralt’s lips.

“All can be forgiven. Do you think that would be fair: for me to just forgive you?” Geralt asked. When Jaskier approached him, he took Jaskier’s chin in his hands and glowered down at him.

“No—I, I want you to punish me,” Jaskier muttered. “I want you to teach me how to be better.” Jaskier desperately wanted to duck his head, but Geralt held him firmly in place so he had to _look_ at Geralt while he talked.

“Do you, really?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” Jaskier said. Geralt gave a smug grin in return, turning Jaskier’s head from side to side like he was inspecting an _animal_.

“I suppose that’s good enough. Strip, Jaskier. I won’t ask twice.”

Geralt walked off to the side to take a seat on the bed, where he had a perfectly good view of Jaskier as he started to, hesitantly, pull at his laces. He was taking it slow, gingerly, and trying to look anywhere but Geralt. Jaskier had been taken with a sudden rush of nervousness, _embarrassment_. Geralt was staring at him like he was a prize pony, and he felt like one. Like he was here to be looked at and used—but that was the point.

“Today, boy,” Geralt barked. “Do you need help? Are you so caught up with the _thought_ of getting your cock touched that you’ve gone stupid?”

Jaskier frowned. “I can take off my clothes. I’m just—”

“You’re just, what?” Geralt stood up and walked over to Jaskier. “I think you need help. If you don’t want to admit that, then we’ll do this the hard way.”

He spun Jaskier around, so he was facing away, then grabbed the collar of his shirt and _pulled_. Jaskier gasped at the echoing sound of fabric ripping. Geralt didn’t _stop_ until he’d ripped Jaskier’s shirt right off of him, and then he moved down to his trousers. Jaskier stood there, a fool, until Geralt had him naked. And once the shock of it wore off, Jaskier turned around—

“Those were silks!” Jaskier shouted. “You can’t just rip my clothes; do you know how hard it’s going to be to replace—”

“I don’t think I asked,” Geralt growled, taking a hold of Jaskier’s jaw. There was the gentlest stroke of his thumb that would read as a promise to fix this. For now, he just couldn’t _resist_ the urge. Jaskier didn’t blame him. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut unless I say otherwise, do you understand?”

Jaskier nodded, hurriedly.

“Do you _understand_ , boy?” Geralt asked again, firmer—angrier.

“Y-yes, daddy,” Jaskier said.

“On the bed, hands and knees. I’m going to ensure that you’ve done a proper job. If you haven’t, I promise you,” Geralt’s voice turned low, his grip tightening, “I won’t touch you until you’ve been scrubbed raw.”

Jaskier shivered. As wonderful as that might be, Geralt taking him to the bath and scrubbing him down like he was too stupid to do it himself, he was glad that he’d taken the proper precautions. He couldn’t wait through that. Maybe another day. Maybe he’d even think to _ask_ for what he wanted.

For now, he did what he’d been told. He walked across the room to the bed and crawled on top of it. He settled himself on his hands and knees. There was an urge to look over his shoulder to see what Geralt’s response would be. Jaskier hoped that he would at least _react_. But he had to keep that urge down. He had to stay still, on his hands and knees with his head hanging down between his shoulders. He had to _present_ himself for Geralt’s inspections, and that included _not_ trying to get a peek at things.

Geralt had been wearing his gloves since Jaskier entered, but it didn’t register until that moment, when Geralt smoothed his hand down the swell of Jaskier’s ass. The leather caught and dragged and left Jaskier shivering. Geralt took a firm grasp of his cheeks and spread him open, taking his time to _truly_ inspect. His thumb ran down Jaskier’s cleft, feeling over the slick skin, until he caught on Jaskier’s hole and pulled at his rim. Jaskier bit down onto his lip to keep from crying out, but he _trembled_.

“Were you having some fun in the bath, Jaskier?” Geralt asked.

“Y-yes, daddy, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I’m sure you didn’t even try,” Geralt accused. “Did you think if you were already open that I’d skip your discipline?”

“No, no. I—I like your discipline. I _deserve_ your punishment, please, let me have it.”

Geralt’s deep chuckle sounded out behind him. “I think I like that: hearing you beg for your punishment. You should have kept your hands to yourself if you didn’t want this; remember that. So, you’re going to _thank me_ for this.”

Jaskier didn’t know what _this_ meant until Geralt’s leather clad hand was slapping across his backside. Jaskier yelped in response; the second one came in quick succession over the whole of his rear, again. Then a third, a fourth—Jaskier could feel tears welling up in his eyes. The hard sting of the leather was almost too much to bear. The fifth strike didn’t come, and instead, Geralt just roamed his hand over Jaskier’s ass, smoothing over his reddening skin.

“What do we say?” Geralt asked.

“Th-thank you, daddy,” Jaskier bit out.

“Good boy. You know I do this for your sake, don’t you?”

Jaskier nodded—then yelped when a fifth swat landed on him.

“Use your words.” Geralt cupped the underside of Jaskier’s ass, returning to that gentle, soothing caress.

“Thank you,” Jaskier said, again. “I know you do this for me, daddy. I deserve it. I—I need to be taught a lesson.”

“Yes, you do. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you _enjoyed_ being hit. You always seem to beg for it.” As if to prove his point, Geralt landed three more swats, one after the other, right over the whole of Jaskier’s backside. His ass always bounced so pleasantly, the sound of skin beneath leather was overly wonderful. Jaskier’s little breathy gasps beneath it all just added to Geralt’s enjoyment.

“You do enjoy this,” Geralt accused. “Is that why you always act like such a whore? Would you like to _be_ a whore?”

“No! No, daddy, please,” Jaskier’s elbows gave out beneath him with the next slap. “Please don’t. I want to be yours, yours—please,” he rambled.

Geralt didn’t respond. Instead, he took turns slapping each cheek, listening to the way Jaskier whimpered as each blow was harder, faster. Enough that his ass was turning a rosy little red. Geralt smoothed his hand over Jaskier’s ass once more. The final swat was hard enough to send Jaskier down to the bed, his knees finally giving out from underneath him. He collapsed into the sheets, groaning. Geralt’s firm hand had left a resounding sting, and it _hurt_.

“Did I give you permission to lay down?” Geralt asked.

“N-No,” Jaskier responded. He pushed himself back up to his knees, still down on his elbows, and made sure to spread his knees a bit wider. If he had a wider base, he wouldn’t fall again.

Geralt was impressed with his diligence. He ran both hands over Jaskier’s ass, dragging over the red marks until Jaskier was gasping, struggling to keep his pain to himself. Geralt’s hands went down the backs of his thighs, down to his knees, and back up again. Geralt repeated that movement until he could _feel_ Jaskier trembling beneath him, struggling to keep himself upright. But he hadn’t fallen again. He was being well-behaved, for a change. It wouldn’t be Geralt’s nature to reward him, so quickly.

“Look at you,” Geralt hissed. He worked his hand between Jaskier’s thighs to grab his cock, which was straining against his stomach. “You’re being punished, yet, you’re already like this. How am I supposed to know you’re learning anything if this is how you react?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, daddy,” Jaskier rushed to say. He whined, closing his eyes tight, when Geralt squeezed around the base of his cock.

“There’s only one thing whores like you understand. If you need a cock in you, then I’ll _fuck_ the behavior out of you. It’s all you understand.”

Jaskier’s face was a deep red at the insinuation, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stayed entirely still as the bed shifted and moved. Geralt had climbed onto the bed, _finally_ , after taking the time to remove his boots. His gloves were still on, and Jaskier could feel the sharp sting of the leather against his backside when Geralt grabbed his cheeks and pulled him open. The leather seemed to grab and pinch at all of his abused skin, but Geralt had no sympathy for his whimpers.

Geralt leaned down to drag his tongue through Jaskier’s cleft, and the resounding moan was _everything_. Jaskier was suddenly overtaken with a tremble that threatened to send him back down to the bed, but he held firm. Geralt licked a stripe though him again, a third time, and a fourth. He could taste the tang of the oil and wondered just what Jaskier had gotten up to in that bath. Something he might like to see. For now, Geralt doubled his efforts, pressing his lips over Jaskier’s hole and sucking.

Geralt lapped at the quivering ring of muscles. He pressed his tongue over it, rolling it, before he buried his face down farther and worked his tongue inside. Jaskier let out a breathy moan, gripping his fists into the sheets to ground himself. Geralt’s tongue was inside of him, moving and lapping over his walls, working in deep. Geralt’s hands were still molded over his ass, keeping him open, pulling at all of his aching skin. Jaskier’s cock dripped in response, an overwhelming amount of pleasure seeping over him.

“D-daddy,” Jaskier gasped out. “I’m so close. I’m so close—”

Geralt didn’t pull away to respond. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, mouthing over Jaskier’s hole and pulling him wider open, somehow. Jaskier was left trembling, his eyes closed tightly. Everything was burning in his pelvis, and with each jolt of his body, his cock bobbed between his thighs. He _needed_ release. Surely, Geralt wouldn’t mind—Jaskier shifted and reached down to squeeze over the base of his cock before giving himself one long stroke.

Geralt’s touch ended immediately. He pulled back, landing a hard swat over Jaskier’s ass, and then grabbed him by the hips to flop him onto his back. Jaskier let out a pathetic gasp, but there wasn’t time to correct what he’d done. Geralt had already grabbed him by the wrists and shoved his hands down into the bed.

“Tell me what you’ve done,” Geralt said.

“I touched myself,” Jaskier breathed. “I’m sorry, daddy. I didn’t mean to—”

“You do what I tell you. Did I tell you that you could do that?”

Jaskier shook his head. “No. No—I’m sorry.”

“I try so hard, Jaskier, to think you’re something more than a stupid whore. Don’t you know that?” Geralt took a hold of Jaskier’s jaw. “Why do you continue to try and prove me wrong? Is that what you want? To _be_ nothing more than a stupid whore? Is that why you travel with me? You want to be nothing more than a tight hole I warm my cock on at night?”

Jaskier shivered.

“You’re shameful,” Geralt snapped. “You never learn. It’s disgusting that I can even deign to be seen with you.”

“I want to be better,” Jaskier gasped. “Please, daddy, teach me. I want to be good for you.”

“I don’t think you do.” Geralt’s voice was rough, but the touch of his hand along Jaskier’s face was somehow gentle. Jaskier leaned into the touch, his body trembling with need.

“I _do_ ,” Jaskier insisted.

Geralt sucked in a deep breath, watching the way that Jaskier nuzzled into his hand. He was so sweet, so desperate. He _was_ trying, but there was always a part of him that couldn’t resist being a bit bad; he couldn’t resist the firm hand he always got in return.

“I’ll teach you,” Geralt said, quiet. He leaned down to press a kiss into Jaskier’s forehead. “You’ll listen to everything I say, and maybe, you’ll be good enough.”

Jaskier nodded hurriedly, panting.

When Geralt ordered him to the head of the bed, Jaskier rushed to comply. Geralt had climbed off the bed, but when he returned, he brandished a heavy, leather belt. Jaskier’s heartbeat suddenly shot through the roof; that belt was about to be used on him. Geralt wound it around Jaskier’s wrists and then through the posts on the bed. He wound it through as many times it would go before he clasped it together, tightly. Then, he tugged Jaskier down by a hold on his hips to ensure that his arms were pulled taut and he wouldn’t be able to move. He’d be able to _squirm_.

“Is that tight enough for you, boy?” Geralt asked, his voice softer than it’d been. It was just another little thing, a way to ask if Jaskier was alright or if he needed something. Jaskier could always tell from the soft look in his eyes, and it made his chest swell with an untold warmth.

“Yes, daddy, thank you,” Jaskier replied, quickly. With this new position, he had the perfect view straight to Geralt’s cock, straining through the fabric of his trousers. He couldn’t help but gulp.

“You’re going to learn how to think about someone other than yourself,” Geralt said. “You’re selfish. You’re too caught up in thinking about your next fuck to be a good boy, and we’re going to change that. Do you understand?”

Jaskier nodded. “Yes, daddy.”

Geralt straddled over Jaskier’s chest before he worked his hand into his trousers. He pulled out his cock, and Jaskier swore he could come at just the sight. Geralt was thick, just the right size to fill him up and leave him feeling it for _days_. In his hips, in his jaw—wherever, whenever. Jaskier didn’t care. He could get off on watching Geralt like this, cock in his hands and stroking himself. There was precum collecting at the tip, dripping down onto Jaskier’s face: his jaw, his chin. Geralt reached out with one hand to wipe the slick from Jaskier’s skin before pushing it into his mouth.

Jaskier moaned around Geralt’s thumb, leather and all. There was a sharp taste, but he didn’t recoil from it. He _relished_ in it. When Geralt pulled Jaskier’s mouth open, running his covered thumb over Jaskier’s teeth like he was an _animal_ , Jaskier could feel the twitch of interest in his cock. He felt like a _thing_. Something that existed for nothing more than Geralt’s pleasure, and that’s exactly what he wanted.

“Keep your mouth open,” Geralt ordered, and Jaskier complied. He left his draw dropped while Geralt worked both of his hands over his cock. He _needed_ both hands, and the thought always had Jaskier weak.

Then, Geralt was pushing forward. He braced himself on the headboard of the bed while guiding his cock with his other hand, right into Jaskier’s open mouth. He didn’t stop until the head of his cock was nudging against the back of Jaskier’s throat, and even then, he pushed until Jaskier started to choke on him. Geralt soothed him, a hand on the side of his face to stroke his cheek. Jaskier calmed, immediately, letting his eyes clothes and his jaw stay slack and open.

“That’s a good boy,” Geralt told him. “Let me _use_ you—it’s all your worth.”

Jaskier moaned around Geralt’s cock, but he did exactly as he was told. As much as he wanted to close his lips and suck, lick, _please_ Geralt—he stayed just as he was. Geralt braced himself on the headboard with both of his hands, then, and started to roll his hips. He fucked into Jaskier’s mouth, going as deep as he could just to feel the way that Jaskier tensed up when he was about to choke. His throat would clench around just the head of Geralt’s cock, and the feeling rushed right through him.

Geralt groaned, letting his eyes close as he fucked forward. There was something so endearing about the way Jaskier just left himself open for this. He took every roll of Geralt’s hips, every inch of his cock, every drip of precum. He swallowed, moaning. Jaskier got just as much pleasure from _being_ used as Geralt did from using him.

Geralt pushed his hips flush to Jaskier’s lips and held there for as long as he could, listening to Jaskier carefully. He was tight around Geralt’s cock, and the fire of it was immense. Hot. Mounting. And Jaskier kept taking it. Geralt pulled back to give him hair and then pushed right back into his throat. Jaskier choked around him, drool dripping down from his parted lips, and let it happen again. Again. His entire body was trembling from it, his eyes still closed. _Trusting_ Geralt not to go too far or to hurt him.

The sound of Jaskier moaning around Geralt’s cock was proof of his orgasm. He’d come all over himself from nothing more than Geralt’s cock down his throat, and that had Geralt moaning, his hips stuttering. He hadn’t had any intentions of coming down Jaskier’s throat, but now, the thought was all too tempting. Working himself off in Jaskier’s mouth sounded perfect, and what a reward for how _good_ he’d been. Jaskier had let himself choke on Geralt’s cock to the point where there were tears brimming up in his eyes.

The pace slowed, but Geralt continued to fuck into Jaskier’s mouth. Shallow, slow thrusts to ensure that he didn’t _hurt_ Jaskier, but he wanted to hear those sweet little whimpers, watch the little tears that dripped down his face. The drool on his chin. Geralt was moaning, his grip on the headboard splintering. It didn’t take long after that for him to come, and he made sure that not a drop missed Jaskier’s open mouth. He came right down Jaskier’s throat, groaning and hips bucking.

“Swallow it,” Geralt ordered, when he’d finally collected himself. His breath was hard and heavy, but he had enough sense left to continue.

He held Jaskier’s jaw closed until he could be sure that Jaskier had done exactly what he’d been told. When he let go, Jaskier opened his mouth again without command to show that he _had_ swallowed. There wasn’t a drop left. Geralt smiled at him, just the barest hints of one, and caressed his thumb over Jaskier’s cheek.

“Don’t worry,” Geralt told him, close to his ear. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

Jaskier shivered in response, barely managing to nod as Geralt pulled away from him.

“What do we say?” Geralt said, firmly.

“Th-thank you, daddy,” came Jaskier’s hoarse response.

Geralt slid off the bed, then, to take a full look at Jaskier. His cock was going limp against his thigh, and there was a mess of spend over his stomach. He was squirming, still shifting from the aftershocks of his pleasure. There was drool streaked down his jaw, tears down his face, and he looked like an absolute vision. There was so much Geralt could do to him, like this. He was positively helpless. Geralt took a moment to drag his leather glad hand down Jaskier’s chest, just to watch the way he jolted. He needed to consider his options.

Thankfully, Geralt had rope. Rope was a standard when it came to travel, because he’d never know when he was going to find himself in a situation where he needed rope. Like this situation. It took a bit of maneuvering, a bit of extra cloth to ensure Jaskier’s ankles wouldn’t be rubbed raw, but the ending result was beautiful.

He had Jaskier’s ankles tied to the head of the bed. It ensured that his legs were straight up in the air, spread open so Geralt had a fine view of _everything_ , from the valiant strain of his cock to the oil that still dripped from his hole. His ass was still that fine, abused red. It had taken a bit of rope, especially to make sure that Jaskier couldn’t _move_ his legs, spread them farther or clothes them, but it’d been worth it. Seeing Jaskier completely helpless, restrained, had Geralt’s cock stirring again.

“Look at you,” Geralt marveled. “Tied up and _useless_. Not much different from how you usually are, but the rope is a nice touch.”

He ran his hand along Jaskier’s abdomen, up to his chest where he pinched a nipple. Jaskier jolted in response, biting down on his lip to keep from making too much noise. But Geralt kept it up, with his hand still covered in that leather glove—Jaskier’s breath hitched with each pass of Geralt’s fingers over his nipple. He pinched at it, rolled it between his fingers, and tugged. Tweaked. Anything to try and get a rise out of Jaskier, who was still trying to keep his voice to himself with his teeth in his lips.

“Your effort is admirable,” Geralt told him. “If they could hear you, they’d think I took a whore to bed, wouldn’t they? You don’t want that.”

Geralt moved to Jaskier’s other nipple, giving it the same rough treatment. He left both nipples as rosy, stiff peaks, and Jaskier still hadn’t made more than a keening, whining noise. The way he was tied up left him immobile, and that meant the _only_ relief he would have would be through these noises he wouldn’t make. Geralt would pull them out, eventually. He slipped his hand down further to take a hard grip over Jaskier’s cock, leather glove and all. He stroked himself, in turn.

“There’s no reason they shouldn’t think that,” Geralt continued. “They wouldn’t be wrong, would they?”

Jaskier sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes tightly. Geralt tugged on his cock and squeezed _just_ right, right beneath the crease of the head. He swiped his thumb over the weeping tip and reveled int he way it made Jaskier shudder. Made him _moan_ when Geralt dug his thumb over the tip of his cock and pressed down.

“G-Geralt—” Jaskier gasped, and it was gone, all at once.

“What was that?” Geralt asked. His hand pulled back to rest threatening against the back of Jaskier’s thigh.

“N-no! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, daddy, I didn’t mean—” Jaskier _yelped_ when Geralt’s hand slapped against his thigh.

“That’s right. Let them _hear_ you,” he gave a dangerous growl. He bore his hand down again, over Jaskier’s other thigh, and he squealed in response.

Geralt rubbed over Jaskier’s abused skin before swatting him four times in succession, two for each thigh. He inched farther and farther down with each slap, until he was rubbing over Jaskier’s exposed ass. He dipped his fingers down over his perineum, through his cleft and over his hole. Jaskier shivered in response, moaning openly now. The leather against his most intimate places was _everything_ , but he wanted to feel Geralt’s hand. He’d been dreaming about Geralt’s hands on him since he knew this was how they were to spend their night.

“D-daddy,” Jaskier gasped. “Daddy, can I ask for something?”

“Have you earned it?” Geralt asked. He pressed the flat of his finger over Jaskier’s hole, _threatening_ to push in with his glove. He wouldn’t, and Jaskier had to know that. It was difficult to ensure that his gloves were clean enough for that. But they were practicing. If Jaskier was learning to ask for things he wanted, then it was working.

“Y-yes,” Jaskier responded, shakily. “You wanted me to ask for things that I want, and—”

“Very good,” Geralt cut him off. He pulled his hand away, but still delivered one devastating swat across Jaskier’s rear.

Jaskier cried out in response, pulling at his restraints, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t move. He was tied up on display for Geralt, and that meant all he could do was lay there and _take it_.

“P-please, take off your gloves,” Jaskier whimpered. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

“It’s not so hard, is it?” Geralt asked. He was already tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the side. “You can have anything you want. You just have to ask.”

Jaskier nodded quickly. “Would you p-please fuck me?”

“Right now?” Geralt asked. His hand returned, then, his fingers rubbing over Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier shivered at the touch: skin-on-skin, nothing was better.

“N-no. No. No—I need your fingers first. Daddy, please, let me have your fingers.” Jaskier’s entire body was trembling, at this point, but Geralt looked so _pleased_ with him.

“Since you’ve asked so nicely. I knew you had it in you.”

Geralt left for only a moment: to get the oil. When he returned, he’d shed his shirt and worked his trousers off. Once he was naked, he crawled onto the bed to kneel just inches away from Jaskier, so they wouldn’t quite be touching.

He made quick work of the oil over his fingers, making sure to dribble some over Jaskier. He watched it drip down between his cheeks, leaving him slick. The oil was warm, but the feeling of it still left Jaskier shuddering, letting out pathetic little keening noises. He was so close to having what he wanted, and Geralt was taking his sweet time to pull him open and run his fingers through him. Slow. Slow. Until Geralt was finally working in his first finger, and Jaskier’s jaw fell open with his moan.

“Such a desperate little thing,” Geralt mused.

He worked his finger into Jaskier, slowly, pressing along his walls. Spreading the oil. He could feel every jolt Jaskier made as he was breached further, inch by little inch. He opened right up, spreading apart as Geralt worked him on his finger. It was just one, and already, there was a flush that spread down Jaskier’s chest. He was panting, covered in a light sheen of sweat, and squirming. He was trying, so _desperately,_ to work himself down on Geralt’s finger, but there was no way for him to move.

“When we get to the city,” Geralt said, pulling his finger back to drip more oil over his hand. When he pressed back, there were two fingers working inside, and Jaskier _moaned_. “I’m going to tie your arms behind your back and let you ride me. Show me what a stupid, desperate whore you are. Would you like that?”

“Y-yes,” Jaskier gasped. “I want to please you, daddy. I want to make you feel good.”

“Oh,” Geralt hummed, a smile on his face. “That’s sweet of you.”

Geralt split Jaskier open on two fingers. It was an easy slide, inside of him, and the way that it had Jaskier’s body trembling just made it worth the extra oil. They might need to buy more before they left, but there was just something enticing about making it wet and slick. The way Jaskier opened up under his touch had Geralt’s cock twitching in interest. If it were possible, he’d bury himself inside of Jaskier immediately, but he wanted to take his time. He wanted to make sure Jaskier was open for him, _ready_ for the girth of his cock.

When Geralt started to spread his fingers apart, Jaskier fell to pieces beneath his touch. He was trembling, _moaning_ these pretty little noises through ever pass of Geralt’s fingers, every stretch of them through his walls. Then, Geralt was reaching forward with his free hand to run his thumb over Jaskier’s perineum—Jaskier cried out, then. His hips bucked against his restraints, but he couldn’t escape the sudden rush of pleasure through him. It left him feeling so _full_ —he didn’t know how to handle it.

Geralt dared to brush over his cock, too, and Jaskier nearly shouted. He felt like he was going to come, again. _Just_ from this. Geralt worked his fingers deeper, rubbing over that spot inside of Jaskier that sent him into a spasming orgasm: his second of the night. He cried out with the rush of mounting pleasure, throwing his head back into the pillows. His joints were starting to hurt, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t be able to think about it much longer.

“Please, please,” Jaskier gasped. “ _Please_ , daddy, I’m ready—”

“Be patient,” Geralt snapped. “You’ll have my cock when I give it to you. Is that understood?”

“Yes, daddy. I’m sorry, daddy,” Jaskier mumbled, lulling his head to the side.

Geralt pulled his fingers back for more oil, then pressed forward with _three_ of them. Jaskier moaned, his hips jolting at the press. He was sensitive, now. So, so sensitive, but that didn’t stop him from begging for it, _crying_ for it. Jaskier’s cock hadn’t even gone soft. The pleasure of having Geralt’s fingers inside of him was enough to keep him going, keeping him wanting for more.

With three fingers inside of him, he was so wound up that Jaskier had tears brimming in his eyes, but every noise out of his mouth was from how good it felt, how much he wanted it. If he’d had any movement ability, he’d have been fucking himself down onto Geralt’s fingers just to get _more_. As it were, he only got what Geralt gave him, and that, alone, was still more than enough. Jaskier’s entire body was on fire with it, and just as fast as it’d come, it all left as Geralt pulled his fingers back.

Jaskier let out a pathetic little whimper at the loss but watched as Geralt spread oil down the length of his cock. He choked on his own moan, his own _excitement_. Geralt finally pushed forward, guiding himself with one hand and gripping Jaskier’s thigh with the other.

He took it slow, watching the stretch of Jaskier’s hole as he finally breached him. Jaskier took every inch of his cock inside, spreading out around it, _taking_ , taking, taking. Jaskier was shivering, moaning with every inch that Geralt sunk inside of him. It was the first time he wished that Geralt hadn’t tied him so securely. He wanted his legs around Geralt’s waist and his arms around Geralt’s neck, rocking down on that cock and taking his pleasure of it. Instead, all he could do was moan.

Geralt stopped once his hips were flush against Jaskier’s backside. Geralt took that moment of letting Jaskier adjust to reach out for him, to cup his clean hand against Jaskier’s cheek and stroke his skin. Jaskier seemed to shudder, leaning into Geralt’s touch with his eyes closed. He looked relieved, relaxed. _Happy_.

“Are you ready?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier nodded quickly. “Please. _Please_ , fuck me, daddy,” he gasped out.

“Good boy,” Geralt said to him. “Learning how to ask for things you want.”

Jaskier keened, and in the same breath, Geralt pulled back. He snapped his hips forward with as much strength as he could muster, and Jaskier nearly shouted. That was the pace Geralt set: hard enough that the sound of their skin slapping together filled the room as he fucked forward. Each thrust was slow but purposeful, hard, working right over Jaskier’s prostate. Geralt didn’t intend to give him a moment’s rest. Pleasure wrung right through Jaskier, keeping him on that painful edge of sensitive and _good_.

Geralt gripped Jaskier by the hips and sped up, renewing his pace with his own desperation. Jaskier was hot around him, clenching down with every drag of his cock. It just added to the heat of it, the pleasure that was pooling in Geralt’s stomach as he snapped his hips forward. He wasn’t going to last much longer, not with the noises Jaskier was making and the jolts of his hips. He was digging his fingers into Jaskier’s skin hard enough that there would be bruises in the morning. He was hoping there would be.

There was nothing better than seeing all the morning remnants of what he’d done to Jaskier. To see how Jaskier _loved_ it, craved it, wanted more of it. Even now, he was begging—harder, faster, please, _please_. Geralt wouldn’t deny him. He grounded himself in the meat of Jaskier’s thighs and fucked forward, each drag of his cock pulling a moan straight from Jaskier’s throat. He sounded hoarse, wrecked, and _still_ —harder, faster, _more_. Geralt groaned through his teeth, his own pleasure mounting.

When he finally came, he made sure to pull out and leave his mess over Jaskier’s thighs. And somehow, it didn’t seem enough. For either of them. Even as Jaskier seemed so strung out and gone that he couldn’t possibly take more, he was _begging_ for it.

“Please,” Jaskier whined, “let me go. Let me go and hold me, I need—daddy, please,” he begged.

Geralt hushed him but made quick work of it. He untied all of his intricate rope work in a flash, not bothering to take it from the bed. He juts shoved the strands to the side, leaning forward to unwind the belt from Jaskier’s wrists. Jaskier latched onto him immediately, his arms tight around Geralt’s shoulders to pull him close. They met in a hard kiss; Geralt hadn’t realized how much he’d _missed_ these kisses. Jaskier arched his body into Geralt’s, the mess between them of little consequence, and kept their lips together as long as he could stand it.

“Inside me,” Jaskier gasped between their kisses. “Please—again. I need you.”

Geralt didn’t hesitate to comply. He shifted between Jaskier’s thighs, and Jaskier hooked his ankles around Geralt in response. Geralt groaned. Even if the angle was a bit strange, he still managed to push his still-hard cock right back inside. Jaskier’s jaw dropped open in a quiet moan, and he broke off into a litany of _thank you_ as Geralt started to fuck into him.

It was slow, this time. They were just rocking together, desperate to _feel_ whatever they could. To just _be_ together. The smashed together heated kiss after kiss, wet with saliva. When Geralt worked down, it was to bury his face against Jaskier’s neck and suck little marks into his skin. Jaskier groaned appreciatively through each of them, and when everything came crashing down like a wave, again, it happened _together_. Geralt didn’t manage to pull out fast enough, and Jaskier came between them.

Geralt propped himself up over Jaskier as to not crush him, but he stayed like that for a long moment, trying to catch his breath. He was wrung out and tired, and Jaskier looked no better off. He looked like he was about to go straight to sleep, and that was perfectly fine. Geralt leaned down to press a kiss into his forehead.

“I’ll take care of the rest,” Geralt mumbled, quietly.

Jaskier didn’t even manage to nod before the exhaustion overtook him.

When Jaskier woke back up, he’d only been out for a few minutes. He could feel a rag over his skin, cleaning him up. Geralt must have already done the intimate cleaning, as Jaskier didn’t feel that uncomfortable slick between his cheeks. All he could feel was a pleasant soreness that had overtaken his entire body. He reveled in it, resting down in the pillows and closing his eyes again to just lose himself in the feeling. When he was left feeling sore, afterward, he knew it’d been a good time.

It _had_ been, and it was made even better in the aftermath with the way Geralt took care of him. Geralt was taking such a meticulous time to ensure he was as clean as he could be. He’d need to bathe again before they set off, but at this point, he couldn’t imagine they’d be setting off in the early morning as they tended to. Geralt would probably let him take as much time as he needed to feel properly rested. Which was exactly what he was going to do—sleep all morning, if he could manage it.

It was still dark outside, but for all Jaskier knew, they’d been at it well into the morning. While Geralt tended to want to rise with the sun or even before, he’d wait if Jaskier needed it. And Jaskier did. This was that sort of bone deep exhaustion that only came after a good fuck, and Jaskier just wanted to bask in it for as long as he could. It wasn’t often that he could really lose himself int he way that Geralt took care of him; it was nice. It was wonderful. He even smiled.

“Glad to see you’re awake.”

“That’s absurd,” Jaskier replied. “I’m still asleep.”

Geralt scoffed, pleasantly amused. Jaskier _sounded_ like he’d just been through the wringer, and maybe he had been. His voice was broken, and his throat sore, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from making the snide remarks. It wasn’t in his nature to go down quietly.

“You should rest,” Geralt did agree. “Could I move you, first? The bed dressings need to be changed. I don’t want you sleeping in that.”

Jaskier just huffed. How annoying. He didn’t _want_ to move, but then again, he didn’t have to. Geralt took his indignant huff as an affirmative, so he stood up. He wedged his arms under Jaskier’s shoulders and his knees and picked him right off the bed. There was a chair not too far off, and he set Jaskier down there. It was much less comfortable than a bed, but it wouldn’t be for long.

Geralt had already gotten dressed, but his clothes were _fine_. The way his trousers hugged against his ass and his shirt was left open was just the view Jaskier needed before he went to sleep. Maybe, if he woke up with a hard cock, he might be able to talk Geralt into _one more_ round before they ran off. They did need to get to the city, and Geralt had already promised him another fantastic night when they made it. Jaskier was hard pressed to ever turn down a mouth around his cock. Or a cock in his mouth. He wasn’t picky.

“Alright,” Geralt said, once he’d finished. Jaskier hadn’t even realized he’d started to drift off again, but Geralt’s voice always brought him back.

Geralt crossed the room and scooped Jaskier back up into his arms. Jaskier held onto him tightly, right up until the moment that Geralt deposited him back into the relatively clean bed. It was good enough for the night, and far finer than some of the conditions Geralt was used to sleeping in. Jaskier preferred the fine silks and feather down mattresses, but he’d take what he could get if it meant traveling with Geralt.

“You’re going to sleep too, aren’t you?” Jaskier asked. “You’re not going to go off and do some Witcher thing while I sleep, right?”

Geralt sat down on the edge of the bed and rolled his shoulders, rolled his neck. “I’m exhausted,” he responded. “You take a lot out of a man.”

Jaskier smiled. “I’m quite pleased to know that. Come, I still need you.”

Geralt snorted, but he didn’t say anything further. He laid down in bed and pulled up the blankets over them. Jaskier made himself a nice comfortable little bed, right up against Geralt’s chest. He _did_ still need Geralt, but it was for this. It was for those ten to fifteen minutes where they could bask in each other. Geralt would hold him close, carding his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, and Jaskier would bury his face against Geralt’s neck. In the quiet of the early morning, it was easy to drift right back to sleep. Geralt would certainly follow.

When morning came, and it came quite later than it usually did, Jaskier woke up with a grand blot of sun shining right through the window into his eyes. That was still only the second thing that he noticed, because when he reached his arm out to push himself up, he met cold, empty bed. Jaskier stared down at the empty space beside him for a long, silent moment. He knew there was no reason for Geralt to just get up and leave, especially when all of their supplies were still in the room, but Jaskier couldn’t help the sudden _tug_ in his chest.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to feel that for long. There was a thump against the door, followed by door actually opening. Geralt backed his way through it with a tray in his hands, and when he turned, he kicked the door shut. He smiled at Jaskier and raised the tray up a bit higher, so he could see.

“I thought you’d still be fast asleep,” Geralt said. “Are you alright?”

“Quite,” Jaskier replied. He was a bit embarrassed that he could wear that right on his face, easy enough for Geralt to see.

“I went to haggle with the people. I got some fine foods. I would have done this last night, but it was late enough that we just needed the rest.”

Geralt crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. Jaskier moved down the bed, bunching up the blankets at his hips—he was still naked—to see what Geralt had brought. He had a wooden tray in his lap, full of different cheese, fruits, and fresh meats. There were two small cups, too, and a jug of what was _clearly_ wine. Jaskier nearly laughed. It was a bit early to have wine, but Geralt said he’d intended for this to have happened the previous night.

It would have been nice to have cheese and wine after that, but Jaskier had been much more focused on going straight to sleep. It worked well for a morning meal, and Jaskier smiled. He leaned into Geralt’s shoulder and just _grinned_ , like an idiot. He was still feeling those effects of their night together, so all of it came together nicely, anyway. Geralt was still taking care of him, and it felt _nice_. It felt wonderful. There were some things that Geralt could say that had a resounding sour effect, but moments like this reminded him that they were just _words_.

“How are you feeling?” Geralt asked him.

“Sore.”

Geralt set the tray down on the bed and sat back onto it, beside Jaskier.

“I would show sympathy, but you were _begging_ for it,” Geralt mused, nudging Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. You had fun, too.”

Jaskier poked through the foods before finally deciding that what he _wanted_ was to flop back down into the pillows and lay down. His hips were sore. His _ass_ was definitely sore. Sitting up wasn’t really doing it for him, and Geralt was still clearly in _care_ mode. He could get away with anything, right now, and Geralt wouldn’t even scold him.

“Feed me,” Jaskier said, lying back down. “Please.”

“You’re insatiable,” Geralt accused, but he didn’t say _no_.

In fact, he poured wine, instead. He took a quick drink, himself, before laying back into the pillows. He’d pulled the tray up between them so that he had an easier time of doing exactly what Jaskier had asked. Jaskier had said _please_ , anyway. It wouldn’t have been right to refuse him, not when he was continuing to be so well-behaved. Geralt poured Jaskier his own small cup of wine and held it up for him to drink.

“You’re so sweet,” Jaskier said. “Shall I write you a love song? A ballad?”

“If you feel so inclined. I wouldn’t say no to a song.”

Jaskier smiled. When Geralt offered him some freshly sliced cheese, he accepted it. He chewed. He swallowed. Geralt had fruit and meat to share between them, though he was far more interested in feeding Jaskier than he was with feeding himself. Eventually, Jaskier reached down for a piece of bread and held that up for Geralt. He needed to eat too, and even if he was hesitant to accept food _like this_ , he did. He had no trouble feeding Jaskier, so he would just have to let Jaskier feed him in return.

They spent their morning like that: leisurely, lazy. Jaskier had curled up into Geralt’s side to finish their meal, and they’d stayed like that for a long moment while Jaskier went over different ideas for a song he had in mind. Geralt was no master of the arts, but he was an ear. Always happy to listen. Jaskier appreciated it more than he could ever really say.

When their lazy morning was over, Geralt revealed that he’d left _quite_ early that morning, which was why the bed had been cold. He realized that he’d probably been a bit hasty in ripping Jaskier’s clothes. They weren’t quite as fine, but he had gone out and purchased some new ones. At least, Jaskier wouldn’t have to walk to the city naked. That was one of those suggestions that was certainly taking things too far.

Jaskier had to get up to get dressed, and he did so like a newborn deer. He nearly stumbled over his own feet, and Geralt managed to catch him. In the spirit of learning how to ask for things he wanted, Jaskier gave Geralt the best smile he could manage.

“Help me get dressed?” he asked. “Maybe you’ll even let me ride Roach? I’m clearly too useless for this.”

“Clearly,” Geralt huffed. But he didn’t say no.

Geralt was hard pressed to say no when he was the _reason_ that Jaskier was having trouble standing on his own two feet. His skin was still red, and there _were_ bruises rising up over the skin of his thighs, his hips. There were marks that littered the lower part of his neck, his chest. For the next day, Jaskier would be able to get whatever he wanted, and that included having Geralt dress him. Kiss him. Hold him for a moment after he was dressed. Geralt wasn’t particularly good or fond of open affection, but it was the little things that mattered.

The way that he stroked back Jaskier’s hair said _I care about you._ The way that he got all of their supplies together for their continued voyage said _I worry about you_. When they finally got started and Geralt _did_ let Jaskier ride his horse. Well. That just said _I love you_. Jaskier would say it back, too, but always in the form of a song.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 Froge Bounces 𓆏  
> [Check me out on Tumblr!](https://tantumuna.tumblr.com)  
> [My Twitter!](https://twitter.com/tantumunawrites)  
> 


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